Never To Be Mine
by Aegon Targaryen
Summary: From the memoirs of Adrian Sand, the companion-servant of Viserys Targaryen and his sister Daenerys the Stormborn, the tale of the would-be knight who faithfully follows the Targaryens across Essos. Through the bustling Free Cities to the Dothraki Sea, he keeps service to the Targaryens and writes the story down. The story of his princess, his khaleesi, his queen. Slightly AU, OC.
1. Chapter 1 - When She Married

_Disclaimer_: I do NOT own Game of Thrones or its contents. All characters (save for Adrian Sand) and notions of story belong the George Martin. This is an alternate storytelling and is not meant to infringe on copyright.

**Chapter 1: When She Married**

"_I still dream of it, of a time when I was a child and only that. When life was so simple and so abstract, a time when we were happy. As much as we could be._

_ Braavos was home to Dany and I, Viserys never did enjoy it much, but my king knew of greater things. All I knew was the big red door of the house in this bustling city of a hundred isles that were drenched in the smell of the sea, of ancient pine trees, and the filth of civilization. And it was there that I have my first memories, clutching the cloak of the old knight Ser Williem Darry. It is where I heard my first stories of Westeros, of battles and rebellions, of great knights, of my father. I am the unwanted, the unknown, an illegitimate heir to a legacy that is not mine to pursue. Yet they are the children of the Mad King, of Old Valyria, of Targaryen fire. And I am their servant. And I am happy still._

_ My name is Adrian. I am no knight, I serve no Seven nor am I noble born, rather to be known as a bastard of some distant land. I am no one of importance. For the thousand, thousand stories told each day of dragons and knights like my father, I am in none of them and quite pleased with this absence. For all my life, unlike so many in these stories, I am glad to be one thing and one thing only. Free._

_ I write these words in hope that one day, in a time when all is forgiven and all hatreds are put aside, that someone will read this. And they will learn of the lady whom I believe would be the greatest queen to ever live on the face of this beautiful world, Daenerys Targaryen the Stormborn._"

From the memoirs of Adrian Sand, author introduction.

* * *

There were laughs exchanged between pairs, switching partners every few moments as the music led them about. They wore rich colored clothes and had fine jewels, with sweet smells circling them. The hall had great buffets and was decorated extravagantly, to the point where one decoration was lost within another. It seemed as though the room drowned in a sea of wealth, overwhelmed by the extreme amount of luxury. Only the back walls were safe from this, concealed behind the pillars that outlined the dance floor and buffets.

"Enjoying yourself?" The blond boy turned his head and pushed off the wall to stand straight, bowing his head. He was blatantly uncomfortable in the fine linen clothes he had been gifted for the occasion. One of many borrowed things that had been given.

"It's a party beyond any I've seen in any of the Free Cities, magister." He answered to the large, twin-bearded man who drank from a golden goblet. The boy did his best not to sneeze as the intense aroma of perfumes rushed upon him, making him to feel suffocated.

"You have a way with words Adrian. Are you sure you wish to remain with His Grace? You'd make a good merchant. Think of it my boy, the name Illyrio Mopatis is known far and wide. It would be easy to make a living for yourself, find a lovely wife, settle down. Make something of yourself."

"I... Thank you magister, but I'm quite happy to serve my king." Adrian answered and smiled to the round man as he stroked one of the prongs of his beard, his rings dazzling with every movement.

"Hmm. Suit yourself then."

"I do appreciate your offer magister, please take no offense."

"Perhaps I won't. Though you must know that I am still rather crossed with you." Illyrio spoke. "Fooling me to think that you were King Viserys when you arrived. An embarrassment I may not yet soon forget."

"His Grace does expect some to do him harm, magister. I meant no disrespect in posing as the king, nor did he wish to offend you I'm sure."

"Hmm. You two certainly do look alike, considering the important things when searching for a Targaryen. Hair of silver and gold, eyes brighter than any amethyst I own. Though..." Illyrio smiled and pointed at Adrian's face as the big man leaned forward and spoke in a hushed tone. "...your eyes are far more difficult to understand."

"Difficult to...?"

"Magister!" Viserys came over to the chatting pair, Adrian immediately stepped to the side and turned to bow at the waist to the Targaryen. Illyrio settled for a deep nod as he eyed the partially drunk man. Side by side, the boy and Targaryen heir did look identical in terms of their hair and eyes, though that was where the similarities ended. Adrian was taller but not as slender, his skin not quite as pale nor his hair long like Viserys'. The king would never permit a bastard to wear his hair in a Valyrian manner, and thus made sure Adrian kept it short.

"Your Grace." Illyrio responded as the Targaryen gestured to the hall full of Pentos officials, wealthy merchants, and quite a few foreigners from other Free Cities.

"This is magnificent! A true welcome for the Dragon!"

"I am ever so pleased that your Grace approves. I do hope that this most modest celebration is at least somewhat worthy of you, my king." Illyrio smiled while Adrian scoffed, not liking the tone that the magister was taking with his master. That noise caught Viserys' attention and immediately the Targaryen eyed him.

"Adrian! You think it's fun, right?" Viserys asked and Adrian looked unsure before his eyes went from his king to the ground.

"It.. it is enjoyable, your Grace."

"You don't sound like you're having fun." Viserys said almost warningly, but soon laughed. "Illyrio! Do you have a spare woman for my steed here to mount?"

"I-I'm fine, your Grace!" Adrian insisted rather abruptly as he looked up. His king often referred to him as his Dornish Stallion since Adrian had grown up so quick to be taller and more broad than his king, and had reached his manhood so early on.

"Do not refuse me." Now Viserys was warning him. As he so often did, at least this time he didn't have a red hot knife or a birch stick.

"Of course not, your Grace." Adrian lowered his head again and Viserys laughed at him as he always did.

"I am sure many ladies would enjoy servicing your knight." Illyrio glanced at Adrian, very sure that many women and certain types of men wanted to throw themselves at the boy. The magister was tempted to sell him to a wealthy friend who enjoyed young boys, though Adrian at fourteen would be too old. So the thought left Illyrio's mind.

"Oh he's no knight." Viserys still laughed. "Just a bastard. I fancy the idea of him breeding a whore or two though. What do you call a bastard's bastard?"

"I'm not sure, your Grace. Could you enlighten me?" Illyrio was becoming more amused by the minute. Adrian stood there as the pair laughed it out, he kept his head lowered all the meantime. So far, he liked Pentos the least. In the other Free Cities where skills were valued more than wealth, Adrian was given some fair treatment. He was eyed by household masters who wanted to see how well their elite did against the Dornish boy who was the sole follower of the Targaryens. Of course Adrian always lost, he was only a child and a poor excuse for a warrior. In Pentos, he was only a child.

* * *

"_We arrived at the great estate of Magister Illyrio Mopatis on a sunny day, though many days in Pentos are sunny and seemingly carefree. I admit, I was afraid. The guards there were so cold and uncaring towards us, the magister had said they are expertly trained to be killers. I later discovered they were of the Unsullied. That made me feel no less uneasy._

_ Pentos made little impression on me when I first arrived. A massive city of towers with gold being passed from one greedy hand to another with men and women frolicking about as if the world beyond their walls did not exist. Song and dance was everywhere, painters and jesters on every street corner. I had heard that there were no slaves in Pentos, but still I remember that so many wore the bronze collar of bondage._

_ I had feared that my king had brought us to a very dangerous place, where we would not be able to escape. Illyrio proved to be a patient man, and he knew that two Targaryens would be worth more than just simply being prestigious guests. They were game pieces._"

From the memoirs of Adrian Sand, eleventh chapter.

* * *

"Adrian." He looked over his shoulder before turning, bowing to her as she watched him, hands folded neatly in her lap as she slouched slightly.

"My princess."

"Armor... doesn't suit you." Dany admitted, smiling faintly as Adrian tried to stand proudly for her.

"A gift, courtesy of Illyrio." He smiled at her as he stood there, armor reflecting some of the afternoon sunlight. It was bronze and iron plated armor with chain-mail between each metal plate, a bit large for him around his waist and thighs. Adrian had little knowledge that it was more for show than actual combat. He did know however that the armor was very uncomfortable.

"Is Viserys having you knighted again?"

"I think he's toying with the idea." Adrian grinned a bit. The Targaryen king often teased the bastard with the idea of being knighted, having him kneel down and ceremonially receive words of praise from his king before being told he'd never be a knight. That he was and always would be a bastard.

"You're too kind for armor." Daenerys brushed her hair back, thinking back to the kind old Ser Darry who as well had been too kind for armor. Though she knew little of chivalrous tales besides what the old knight had told them.

"And you're too kind to say so, my princess." He bowed his head to her, gazing at her as she stood there. "A new dress?"

"Ahh... yes. My own suit of armor I suppose. Though how it'll protect me from ruffians, I couldn't say."

"That's why I am here my princess."

"Thank you." She smiled a little more at him.

"Are you excited?"

"Excited?... Oh." She had forgotten for a moment that this was all real. Her mood seemed to fade away as she seemed to drift past him onto the veranda. It didn't have a view like the Targaryen suite, but still the nine towers of the Dothraki manse could be seen from where they were. Adrian followed after Daenerys, as he always had when he was not with his king.

"I'm sorry my lady, I hadn't meant-"

"I don't know what it's like to be married." She interrupted him as she put her palms on the smooth marble. "I always thought... I'd be Viserys' bride. It's all I've ever expected in life. Now we're leaving again, to some new place, but this time I'll belong to another man."

"Princess..." Words failed him. His tongue felt like it were in a knot, perhaps it really was. This was a different situation for both of them. Adrian had assumed that they would leave when Illyrio grew bored of the Targaryens, and they would move on to elsewhere once more. Dany spoke the truth though, they would go to a new place, but she would no longer be only the sister of the rightful king. She would be the wife of another king.

"Will you sit near me at the wedding?" Dany asked suddenly as she turned, seeing him stare at his feet as he fretted over his words. "I'll feel better if I have a knight near me."

"Heh." Adrian smirked, unable to help himself. It's what her nature did to him, made his heart race and other areas swell. She was so beautiful, so witty, but most of all, so pleasant. Though he could never say it was so. "I would sit in a brazier if it made you happy, my princess."

"Mm, don't give Viserys any ideas..." She cautioned him, smiling again at him with the same sad smile she always wore. He felt sometimes that she forced herself to be happy, though he could hardly blame her.

"I would sit in a brazier if it made my king happy." He added, though he was far less enthusiastic about that notion. Adrian endured waking the dragon, though far less than Daenerys did. Yet still, he was loyal to his king to a fault.

"Oh... don't say that." Daenerys held herself and looked over her shoulder to the Dothraki manse. More often than not, Adrian seemed to say the wrong things to her. Her timid, frail personality often made her enclose herself in her thoughts despite her usual openness with Adrian. She was beautiful, witty and kind, but also delicate.

"My life is for the Targaryens, my princess. Fire and Blood, command me, I will burn and bleed for you."

"Don't you... ever wish for something more?" She asked as her eyes remained on the manse, turning around to look straight ahead at it.

"For the big red door perhaps, for simpler times." He glanced up at the sky. "You're all I will ever need... and your brother, I mean."

"Mm." Daenerys barely answered, now lost in her thoughts of what was to come. Adrian left it at that. No more questions or talk of what was or what was to come. He merely stayed by her side until servants of Illyrio came to fetch her, finding her out on the veranda of the bastard's quarters with the pair staring off into nothingness.

* * *

"_There has been no sight ever in my life such as the Dothraki horde of Drogo, the Great Khal. Thousands of warriors and horses, women and children, slavers and the enslaved. Countless could be seen and countless more were out of view from their sheer number alone. I remember my head felt so light from the thought of it all, and just how insignificant I truly was._

_ It pained me to see Dany handed off to Drogo. When he touched her, it seemed as though I had failed in some way, letting him violate her. How trivial and even silly it was looking back on it now. To think that such an odd arrangement would blossom into... anything was remarkable, a blessing perhaps were I to believe in the gods. Appearances can be most deceiving above all other things. The Dothraki taught me this, but then again, so did Illyrio and the other hagglers of the Free Cities. I simply never realized it."_

From the memoirs of Adrian Sand, thirteenth chapter.

* * *

The presentation to the Dothraki _khal_ was not what Adrian had expected. He had seen his king size up whores, carefully and thoroughly, so the bastard could only expect that the Dothraki horselord would do much the same. To see what prize was being offered up to lure the horde away from Pentos, to inspect that bride worth an army. Instead, it was over just as it had begun, all it had taken was a glance. One look at the princess and the _khal_ rode off again with his warriors, leaving all except Illyrio in a state of confusion.

It made Adrian uneasy, to see the _khal_ act so casual. He had never seen a man be so decisive. Those that ruled the Free Cities would fret over a matter for weeks, even years, yet this horselord had decided in seconds that this Targaryen lady would be his bride.

The days passed by quickly as preparations for the wedding were already underway. Most of the nights were the same as they had been, silent and peaceful, except for the eve of the matrimony. Adrian slept far from the Targaryen suites but even he heard the commotion as Viserys swore at the guards while they dragged him away from Daenerys' bedchamber doors. Then came the destruction as Viserys smashed anything he could get his hands on, pottery and chairs, tapestries and paintings. Then finally, Adrian's doors were shoved open and the king came in. The boy slipped from his bed and knelt before the king who flew at him in a rage. Adrian endured a beating like none other that night, but he endured it nonetheless, and bowed to his king when Viserys took his leave.

While the presentation to the _khal_ had been strange, the wedding itself was all the more bizarre to Adrian. And to the other 'civilized' guests as well he was sure. Fighters brawled it out and cut each other open before claiming braids, women climbed all over the bloody men eagerly, and it all was for the appeasement of Khal Drogo and his bride.

Many gifts were of course offered up to both the _khal_ and the _khaleesi_, from Pentoshi merchants, Dothraki warriors, foreigners from far and wide, as well as some strange folk. One such strange man was one who looked like a filthy, gruff version of the chivalrous knights that old Ser Darry used to speak of. He spoke Dothraki to the _khal_ first before he approached.

"A small gift for the new khaleesi." The man offered up a small stack of books to Daenerys as she sat next to her new husband. "The songs and histories from the Seven Kingdoms."

"Thank you ser... Are you from my country?"

"Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island. I served your father. And I hope to always serve the rightful king." The man glanced over at Viserys who sat below Drogo and Dany, much to his displeasure. Adrian's place was equally displeasing to Viserys as he sat on the opposite side of the dias at the same height as the king. The exact belonging of Adrian was a translation confusion, as he was neither a blood relation nor really Daenerys' servant. He wondered exactly what Illyrio had said to Drogo for Adrian to sit where he did.

As Ser Jorah took his leave, Adrian watched Illyrio make a fuss over a chest. Though he couldn't clearly see them, Adrian heard Illyrio speaking to the new _khaleesi_ of dragon eggs. He so wished that he had a gift to lay at her feet. What did he have though? His sword and armor were loaned from Illyrio, his life and service belonged to Viserys, he had nothing to offer. Adrian turned his head to smile at Dany, but her eyes were elsewhere, so he didn't linger as to not offend her husband.

The wedding was over after so long, though it continued even after Khal Drogo presented his bride with a silver steed before they departed together. When the two rode off, Adrian felt his heart sink as he imagined just how frightened his princess must have been. As he always did, he felt useless to the Targaryens. The horde would leave Pentos behind and when they did, Viserys would go with them. Adrian Sand would of course follow his king, but without the borrowed armor and sword. He did not want to lay claim to that which was not his- not to the armor, to the sword, or to the bride.


	2. Chapter 2 - When She Rode

_Disclaimer_: I do NOT own Game of Thrones or its contents. All characters (save for Adrian Sand) and notions of story belong the George Martin. This is an alternate storytelling and is not meant to infringe on copyright.

**Chapter 2: When She Rode**

"_I remember her tears. And in fact I think I was crying too as I clutched Viserys' shirt. They had been so vicious, throwing us into the street, the big red door slammed behind while they squandered what was not theirs._

_I'm sure I was crying, I must have been. The memory is so blurry, but I so distinctly remember our fear and unhappiness. Viserys said nothing to our wails and our tears, he was kinder back then, once upon a time. Now he would have slapped us and ordered us silent. Perhaps it is my fault though. Had I been older, stronger, able to defend my king and my lady. Perhaps she would not have cried so, and I would have not stood there, holding my king's sleeve as I wiped my puffy eyes._

_I could have saved him, from his own wrath that brewed like black tar deep inside him. He would not have grown so bitter and cruel. It is my fault then, that Viserys had to be denied civility. And Daenerys, to be thrown at the mercy of the awoken dragon. I failed my king and my princess. Forgive me._"

From the memoirs of Adrian Sand, first chapter.

* * *

The Dothraki way was a simple one. You rode or you walked. Some rode on horseback while few of the others rode in the cart, the remainder simply walked with the horde without complaint or question. Viserys had been dubbed as the _khal rhaggat_ by the Dothraki for opting to sit in the carts most days, and Adrian did not take kindly to it. While he did not know what it meant, he could guess, and he knew it was belittling of his master. He dared to think why this journey was worth it, why he and his king must follow the Dothraki.

'_For the princess._' He reminded himself each day on the long trails through the tall grass. Though his king followed for reasons other than his sister's assured safety and happiness. He wanted his army.

Daenerys rode the silver at the front of the horde, though still far behind her horselord husband who was mounted on the red, leading the ride and the horde. Adrian had the privilege to walk within sight of the _khaleesi_, but well behind and out of her sights. Had Adrian ever taken the time to look back, he would see his king as well within sight in the cart he sat on. Adrian hadn't looked back however, he never had the desire to. He refused to look back now.

Each day was like all the ones before it, save for each new day being more tormenting than the last. Pentos was well behind the horde now, and the last of the Free Cities would soon be too. Adrian had left all things borrowed in the city, and took nothing from Illyrio when he left with his king- who had no quarrel with taking handouts. Adrian had the clothes on his back, his old water sac, and his well-worn boots which were the source of his torment as the soles were shredded from the long marches.

Food and water was of no concern for the horde, and was equally no concern to Adrian. While the warriors were well-fed, the Dornish boy was in no way given scraps. Of course, he had to work for his share and he happily did so. Wood still needed to be chopped, tents would not put themselves up, all the menial things that warriors did not do had to be tended to. It was how Adrian earned his bread, or rather his meat as that was all the Dothraki had.

His nights were spent star-gazing for the most part and thinking of Braavos, but when he could, he would watch the women tan the horse skins, sew vests and horse-hair garments, and paint the leathers they produced. At first he had been an unwelcoming sight, older Dothraki women would hiss and shoo him away, which eventually led to him somehow being of use to them. If they could not chase away the curious foreigner, then put him to work to keep him out of trouble. This was how Adrian learned to tan leathers and sew vests, learn the words for each thing and learn not to waste even a stitch. The elder women had no tolerance for his mishaps, and would strike him over the head before giving him twice the amount of work to do.

"_Ifak_!" They would scold him. A _walker_, or a foreigner to the Dothraki ways. At first it had been an insult, but eventually it became their way of referring to him before they called him by any name. 'Adrian' was too strange on their tongues, so they shortened his name. 'Adro' was his name among the Dothraki. He was not one of them, but he kept good with them and that was enough for the time being.

* * *

"_The Dothraki Sea was beyond words for me. Nothing like the roads between the Free Cities, it is a land of nothing, of peace. To feel the wind that has touched all of Essos, to see grass for miles around with few villages to be found, a place that has no walls or shackles of society. It's liberating. I recall wondering that if I had been there under different circumstances, would I have gone back to the Free Cities, or would I simply rode forward through the grass? I couldn't say._

_Circumstances were not different however, and I remember Viserys being quite foul over it. Nor was I much help with his mood, it seemed to antagonize him that I made attempts to learn about the Dothraki and their ways. My intent had never been so pure as curiosity or initial respect, but rather that I needed new clothes- boots especially. And they had the means to provide it. I would have stolen were it not for the fear of having my hands chopped off, or worse have my life taken. Not to mention what Dany would have thought of me, of what they would have thought of her. I didn't want to risk it._

_Strange to think that I once truly believed I had nothing in common with the Dothraki, that I would never fit in among them, that I could never become one of them. Youth is a strange thing, and I am still young, but I now know that I have much more to learn._"

From the memoirs of Adrian Sand, fourteenth chapter.

* * *

The evenings were the best part of the Dothraki way, at least Adrian would later come to believe this. Barely a moment after the tents of Khal Drogo and his Bloodriders were erected, fights would break out. It was a mess to say the least as Dothraki warriors would throw each other and blood would eventually be spilled, all while the women and slaves began the meals. As supper was a time to gather and relax, it was usually stewed horse with some wild grasses or roots mixed in, even bark from bushes. Always stewed horse with something else added. Dried meat for the day, wet meat for the night, that was the Dothraki way. No complaints, no questions. Obedience and perseverance to tradition. Adrian would eventually admired them greatly for it.

"_C__hiftik_! _Ezas eshna gech ahilee_!" The older woman scolded the younger as she examined the mess of what was once a vest. Calling her a _cricket_ and telling her to go find another hole to dig, to go create a problem for someone else. This berating went on for a few minutes with many in the camp watching, Adrian heard it even before he arrived, and could only smile a bit at how lively things were today. After the woman shooed the girl, she held up the vest and spat on the ground just before she noticed the boy.

"_Adro_!" The woman called out, easily spotting the blond boy from across the small camp. "_Fichat e chosh kherikh_!"

"_Ai, ai kristasof_." He answered as he set down some chopped food as he arrived. The woman gave him a scowl and threw a stick at him which missed by quite a ways for calling her _grandmother_. All she had asked for was fresh leather to work with, she didn't need his smart mouth. Of course, the woman blamed the younger, unmarried girls for teaching him such things.

When Adrian returned with several rolls of leather, the woman reached up and flicked him hard on the forehead before seizing the rolls. It was a lighter treatment than being thrashed over the head, despite being slightly accustomed to it now. A trio of girls giggled as they watched, going silent as the elder woman glared them down as she walked away. When Adrian looked back, he saw the girls still giggling as they pointed. There was no shame, no sin among the Dothraki. So for the ignorant Dornish bastard, it was of great surprise to Adrian when one of the girls came running up to him with a pair of thick-soled boots. There was little exchange between them as she pushed the boots into his arms before giving him a smile, returning back to her work, though not without lewdly glancing over her shoulder while lifting her skirt.

The Dornish boy must have look dumbfounded because the girls giggled at him some more as he turned to leave once again. Stopping outside the small camp, he sat on a rock to take off his poorly made boots that he had done himself as practice. And looking over the boots the girl had given him, he could see without a doubt just how inferior his skills were. Slipping each boot on, he stood up to get a feel for them as he picked up the old boots. Walking back to the main part of the Dothraki encampment felt much better than it had in weeks since Pentos, as his feet ached and begged for rest. Adrian was so lost in the feeling of this new comfort, he didn't notice the two Dothraki behind him until they turned him around and saw the fist come at him.

The punch hit him hard and immediately Adrian dropped his boots before he took a swing at the Dothraki, hitting him in the cheek. The two exchanged a few punches before the Dothraki got him in the stomach, forcing the boy to his knees in pain.

_"__Jano_!" The man spat on him. He was a _dog_ to them, and had no place among them, certainly not to have a woman present herself to him. The first Dothraki left him be and stepped back as the second stepped forward and heaved the boy to his feet before slamming him into the ground. Adrian stumbled up as quick as he could manage between the throbbing in his head and the pain in his stomach, reaching up to grab the Dothraki's shoulder and arm. The two wrestled and each time Adrian stood, he was thrown back down and kicked.

"_Ifak_!" They spat on him again and again, leaving him to be on the ground, curled up and holding his stomach. As they walked away, Adrian felt himself laugh quietly to himself as he slowly got to his feet.

At first he thought his arm had been broken by the last throw down, but came to terms that he was merely being oversensitive to the pain. He was the shamed one, though had come to realize why he had been challenged in the first place. Not for being weak and not for being the sole servant of the Targaryens- this was not the Free Cities. He was challenged for something he apparently had, the eye of a young Dothraki woman. It was a generous lesson, one that he strangely enjoyed and the sense of individuality it gave him.

On his feet at last and leaving his old boots behind, Adrian walked towards his own camp that was full of rowdy, loud men who were tiring themselves out still as they finished supper. Sitting on a rock not far from the edge of the camp was the Andal, Jorah Mormont.

"Your lip." He said as the boy came near, and looking at the boy's confused look, Jorah pointed to his own lip. "It's bleeding."

"Mm." Adrian didn't check his lip, before or now. He was used to flesh wounds, another would do no harm.

"Trouble with the Dothraki?"

"None." Adrian replied as he walked by the man, who stood up and followed after him.

"From the way they threw you around like rag doll, I'd say you have trouble."

"It was a challenge, one that I lost."

"Challenge? Is that what you call it? The Dothraki kill when they challenge. Best if you remember that if you don't want your scalp shaved off." Jorah warned him.

"I'll keep it in mind." Adrian answered flatly. Besides his king and the Dothraki tanners, Adrian talked to no one. And he had little interest in talking to anyone else, especially this man who was looking down at him.

"Ser Jorah Mormont." The man stopped, but Adrian continued on without him. "...And you are?"

"Adrian." He answered, not even looking back at the man as he walked into the camp, stepping around one of the Dothraki warriors who was sitting on the ground.

"Adrian Sand from what Illyrio told me." The knight followed once more as it would seem Adrian wouldn't stop to chat.

"Then why did you ask if you knew?"

"A matter of courtesy." Mormont replied.

"Courtesy..." The word was stale in Adrian's mouth. "Well I don't have a surname."

"In Westeros you would be considered 'Sand' as your father was a Dornish man. Is that right?" Jorah said, which made Adrian stop and turn now.

"You go asking rude questions about things that are no concern of yours, Andal." Adrian snapped which made the knight laugh.

"So there is a viper of sorts in you after all. Good. You'll need that to survive with the Dothraki."

"Viper?"

"Your father, no? Illyrio mentioned that your father had been someone well-known in Dorne. I had assumed it to be the Red Viper. Prince Oberyn of House Martell." Jorah crossed his arms as he seemed to think. It bothered Adrian that he was so interested in his life.

"I don't know anything about House Martell." Adrian said plainly as he began to walk again, leaving the knight behind.

"What about your father? Do you know who he was?" Jorah called after him.

"No one of note. Just a knight I think, not that he's around to matter." Adrian answered back, though he didn't care if Jorah Mormont heard him or not.

* * *

"_I have never felt the desire to be in the presence of Jorah Mormont, nor will I ever. A man like a sulking shadow, watching and waiting while desperately despairing. I fear he would strike if it suited his interests, he is a man without loyalty and without honor. A slaver of men, a fallen lord who sold his people for gold. His words are hollow and void, they will devour any who believe in them. One day I pray he is exposed for the traitor, the coward that he is. A man with no honor who will never know honor._

_He eyes Dany and thinks no one can see him, that no one spies him spying. It was a great disappointment when Viserys had no care for this news, no concern that someone was essentially stalking his sister. The thought had crossed my mind to speak to the khal but what good would that have done? Drogo would have likely killed Jorah, if he had believed me at all, which would have not done my princess any favors nor make her happy. It angers when I see him speak to her so casually, as if he is of the same place. No one is of the same place as my princess._"

From the memoirs of Adrian Sand, fourteenth chapter.

* * *

The long march was no longer of any torment, and Adrian's legs were becoming stronger for it. A part of him was becoming one with the horde, it was strange and unusual, a long-lost feeling of belong had returned that he thought was gone forever, left behind at Braavos. Adrian always looked ahead and never back, but he was pleased by this nostalgia. He had no time to look back, just as the horde never turned around, nor would he.

"_Annakhas dozgosores_." One voice rang out, halting the march as other warriors echoed the order. The entire Dothraki _khalisar_stopped in its tracks, causing Adrian to look around in confusion before seeking out the source of this order. He saw the _khaleesi_heaving herself off her horse and walking into the tall grass and there was Jorah Mormont, staying with the silver. Adrian grit his teeth, not having noticed how the Andal was moving in so close.

There was a terrible distrust he had for the knight. And perhaps a jealousy that he had taken it upon himself to be in the presence of Daenerys, to move into her space. As she disappeared into the grass, he felt sick to his stomach. Worry soon got the better of him as he moved from the horde's path and slipped into the grass towards where his princess went.

It was perhaps a stupid thought to worry over. And he prayed he would not find something to be embarrassed over. Pushing the tall blades aside, Adrian stepped through to a small opening where he saw Daenerys slip off her sandals to feel the cool earth beneath her feet. Watching for a moment from the grass, he slowly approached which caused her to turn quickly towards him. When her eyes met his as he approached, she looked so utterly shocked to see him.

"Adrian!"

"My princess... _khaleesi_." He said and bowed to her. Dany went up to him and put her hands on his shoulders and stood him upright, the surprise still on her face.

"Where have you been? My handmaidens couldn't find you, Viserys said you had left..."

"Left? Left to where?" He asked, as puzzled as she was. "I would never think to-"

There was another rustle among the grass, and a whipping sound. The two looked to see Viserys riding on horseback towards them through the grass, slashing at the blades with his borrowed sword. He did not look happy.

"You dare! You give commands to me? To me? You do not command the Dragon. I am Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. I don't take orders from savages or their sluts. Do you hear me?" Viserys shouted down at Daenerys.

"My king!" Adrian hadn't meant to sound like he was protesting, but the Targaryen lord saw it that way.

"And you! Keep your place bastard!" Viserys went to strike Daenerys with the blunt side of his sword, but it hit Adrian's arm instead as the boy moved to shield the _khaleesi_.

"You dare! I'll teach you!" Viserys kicked Adrian in the face from atop his horse as he dismounted, Daenerys let out a small scream as she moved to help Adrian up onto his feet while Viserys rushed at them. Just as he went to backhand her, a whip caught his neck and yanked him back.

"_Hash shafka zali addrivat mae, zhey khaleesi_?" Looking up, a warrior on horseback reigned Viserys to the ground with his whip as he spoke. Adrian didn't know him or any of the others who appeared around him, nor did Daenerys as she looked with panic at Viserys struggling and choking on the ground then to the warrior, not understanding.

"He wants to know if you want Viserys dead." Adrian translated for her. Dany looked at him in horror.

"_Ishish chare acharoe hash me nem ejervae nharesoon_." The warrior hissed at Viserys.

"He says he might listen better without his head." Adrian translated again as Dany shook her head several times.

"No! Please, please don't hurt him!" Daenerys looked to the warrior, at first begging, but she stopped herself and took a breath. "Tell him, Adrian, that I do not want my brother harmed."

"_Khaleesi vos zalo meme nem azisa._" Adrian relayed Dany's order as he got to his feet, standing beside her. The warrior made a noise of dissatisfaction but laxed his whip, letting it slip from Viserys' throat.

"_Chiftik_." The warrior spat at Viserys, reaching over to take the reigns of the king's horse. "You, walk."

"Are you alright?" Adrian asked, looking down at Dany to which she nodded a few times.

"Kill these Dothraki dogs! Adrian!" Viserys shouted as he coughed, worming on the ground. "I am your king!"

"...Shall we return to the _khalisar_, _khaleesi_?" Adrian asked, not taking his eyes from Daenerys.

"You, ride. Keep _khaleesi _well." The warrior tossed Adrian the reigns of Viserys' horse before riding off with the others through the grass back to the horde. Adrian looked at the horse and then back to Viserys who was just making it to his feet. Daenerys was the first of the pair to walk, and Adrian soon followed her. That would be the first and last time he would look back, but he would never forgive himself for disobeying his king.

"Bastard!" Adrian could hear him shouting. "You're nothing but a bastard!"

The words meant nothing to Adrian. Leaving the tall grass behind, he helped Daenerys onto her silver before he mounted his own new steed. Without any thought, he took a place beside her that had been Mormont's. Adrian didn't care what the Andal thought as he now rode beside the _khaleesi_, he did care though that he let her go out on her own. Unprotected, unshielded.

'_Not much of a knight_.' Adrian thought to himself. '_Just a _jaro_. A dog_.'

The _khalisar _moved forward again as Viserys stumbled out of the grass. Adrian kept next to Dany, and once she had felt calmed, the questions would rush in. Where had he been, how did he speak Dothraki, where had he gotten his new clothes, and so much more. Adrian couldn't help but smile the entire time as she spoke and he answered. He was with her again. He was with her again, as she rode proudly as the Dothraki _Khaleesi_, and was beside her the entire time.


End file.
